


Shotgunning

by NekoPanda



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bi Jeremy, Bisexual Jeremy Heere, Blushing, Boyf, Boyfriends, Crushing, Friends to Lovers, Gay Michael, Gay Michael Mell, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Nervous, Shotgun, Shotgunning, Shy, Sloppy Makeouts, Smoking, Stuttering, Weed, boyf riends - Freeform, riends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoPanda/pseuds/NekoPanda
Summary: Jeremy is nervous to smoke weed and Michael has a simple solution that gets a bit out of control.





	Shotgunning

**Author's Note:**

> Heere's an old fic I never got around to posting. Enjoy!

A rough bass pounded softly throughout the room. The few swinging lights overhead flickering softly, one threatening to blow out completely. The two boys nestled into a corner on the floor, the basement wall cool against their backs. A TV pushed against the wall across the room, with an old gaming system attached, played the music and displayed every colorful wavelength and bounce of sound. A playlist composed of a mixture of techno dubstep and Marley played on a mellow shuffle, set on repeat. Brown and aged, an old couch placed in the middle of the room obscured the view of the two boys hiding in its shadow. The stairs were to the right of the couch, near the TV, leading up to a landing and a second flight of stairs that carried to a locked door, barricading them from the first floor of Michaels house. Off to the left of the pair was an even older poker table with four ratty chairs on each side.

Jeremy had settled next to his best friend a few minutes ago and was patiently awaiting his friend to finished getting “set up,” pulling out a small pouch filled with herb and a tiny metal pipe the size of Michaels hand. The pipe itself was pretty neat, if Jeremy did say so himself, swirled in a rich mixture of reds, yellows, and greens. He watched as his best friend cleaned out the old plant residue and refilled the pot with practiced, careful hands. The crunch of the weed seeming to resonate in Jeremys head.

“So where do you even get this crap?”

“It’s not ‘crap,’ Jer,” Michael chuckled, “its weed. Marijuana. Pot. Etcetera, y’know?” He cocked a full eyebrow at Jeremy. “And where do you think I get it? The guy at Spencer’s.”

“Wait, I thought he sold vintage soda?”

“And pot. You think I go to him all the time just for some soda? My man is a jack of all trades. Now, are you ready or not?”

Jeremy twitched, “Can I just… watch for a few?”

Laughing, Michael answered with a “sure. That’s mad kinky though. You a closet voyeur?”

Ignoring the blush on Jeremys face, the boys shifted closer to the open window above them. Jeremy watched with fascination at the way Michaels hand twitched against the lighter, flicking it and igniting a warm flame that he then held against the bottom of the pipe. His puckered lips pressing against the end of the glass and forming a tight suction, breathing in the illegal material. His chest slowly expanded and Jeremy witnessed the calm flutter of his friends lashes as his eyes closed, settling against the tops of his rosy cheeks. After a few hits, Michael turned to him again.

“You ready yet?”

Jeremy watched the smoke curl around his lips and float weightlessly into the air around them before dispersing through the hatch window above them. He hesitates, finding that the way that the smoke seems to embrace the stars, floating towards the empty nothingness of infinite space, was definitely way more interesting than the easygoing droop of his best friend’s beautiful mocha eyes. Jeremy gulps and shuffles, closing in on himself, tugging Michaels jacket, which he had stolen from off his bed earlier that afternoon, closer to his shaking body.

Michael notices his hesitation and tilts his head into his friend’s line of sight, a strand of hair falling in front of his eyes, “What’s up?”

Jeremy bites his lip, “doesn’t it burn?” he whispers.

“I mean… I’m not gonna lie to you, at first it does. At least it did for me. I coughed so hard I was scared I wasn’t gonna breathe again. Guy said I hit like a pro but apparently that constitutes barfing a bit.” Jeremy laughs, “But it gets easier. Look, I’m not gonna push you if you’re not ready or comfortable with this.”

“I want to.”

“Ok,” he holds the pipe out to his friend. Hands hesitate on their travel to grasp the item.

“I guess… I dunno…”

“Is holding it too much?”

“I really don’t want it to burn.”

Michael runs a hand through his hair, presenting a cowlick that he normally hides with his spiked, tussled hair. “I could…”

Jeremy crosses his legs.

“I could breathe it into your face, which sounds weird. And if I’m honest, it’ll waste literally all the high. We could… I mean… its weird but…” his hands flail, a nervous tick for when he’s gathering his words, but when he forcefully presses them into the floor to halt their movement, they nick his headphones and send them skittering across the floor. The land next to an old box, weathered and water-damaged, holding who knows what. “We’ve shared food before. It’ll totally be platonic, I swear.”

Jeremy feels his eyebrows furrow together, staring at Michael in confusion.

“It’s, uh, it’s called shot gunning. But I’ll just… blow the smoke directly into your mou-“ he cuts himself off to cast a hand down his face and coughs, running a hand through his hair and messing it further.

“Oh,” Jeremy breathes, unconsciously licking his lips.

Michaels eyes latch onto the movement and his breath stutters. He hurriedly looks away.

“So… either that or just take the hit.” He’s already trying to press the pipe into Jeremys hands, but those are resting in his lap, unrushed, “The kis- the other thing is kind of like a beginner thing.” But Jeremy is already cutting him off, whispering a soft “ok” into the crisp air.

The word, although soft and hardly spoken, hangs heavy between the two.

“Ok.” Michael replies.

Both of the boys sit there and stare at each other for a beat. Marley long forgotten in the background. Jeremy can feel his palms sweating, so he buries them in the carpet. This is wrong, he whimpers, Michael has had a few hits. He’s not in his right state of mind. Pushing himself on his best friend at this particular moment is wrong. Jeremy rubs his thumb and forefinger together, the scraggled nails scraping together to smooth out the edge of the other. His thumb would split in its ministrations and his forefingers nail would rush to correct this oversight and split in its vain attempts only for the thumb to jump back to work. It was a vicious cycle. One that seemed so small in comparison to the pressure of his teeth biting on his bottom lip. He should stop this right here, he should laugh and pretend it was a stupid, awkward joke.

But Michael is already pushing himself forward, knees knocking against his in a fumbling attempt to press closer to his best friend. Jeremy feels himself stop breathing as Michael shifts closer, can almost see the small scratches and nicks in the reflective glasses, cracks he knows are there. Michael lets his breath puff out over his best friend’s lips, a stuttered exhale to gain his bearings, he’s too close. Too close. Michaels lips barely ghost over Jeremys, hardly a tingle of feeling passes.

“T-The… the,” Jeremy pulls back, needs a second, can’t think straight, “drug. Smoke.”

Michaels eyes dart up from where they had been staring at the glossy sheen of moisture drying on Jeremys lips, lock eyes with the guy he had been a hairs breath away from kissing, “Right,” he answers, shakily.

He pushes the glasses further on his face, blush rising up over his tanned skin, hardly obvious in comparison to the bright red tint that has overtaken his friends face completely. So, Michael complies. He pulls the pipe up to his face and takes another hit. This hit is for himself. This hit isn’t going to be shared with Jeremy because _fuck_ , his heart is about to leap from his chest. Jeremy watches and Michael breathes in deeply, and exhales, trembling. The smoke leaves his lips in a choppy rush of air, not nearly as graceful as before. Is he nervous too? Michael scratches his neck and then twists it, cracking a small vertebra. “Just… try to inhale as much as you can.”

Jeremy blinks slowly, licking his lips once more and watching his friend take a long, deep gulp of pot. Not long after he watches the pipe catch on Michaels lip, dragging it slightly. Not long after the pipe is even past his chin, Jeremy is against him. Chapped lips clutching his in a desperate, but shy attempt. His clammy hands are pressed against the sides of Michaels face, arching him up and into his own mouth, chests pressed roughly against each other and Michael feels his hand hovering over Jeremys waist, lighter clattering against the floor.

Michael feels something wet, Jeremys tongue, press against his mouth, urging him to open and Michael complies. With a deep, drawn breath, Jeremy inhales the fresh, still warm smoke from his friend’s mouth. And all too soon, Jeremy is pulling back from Michael with a semi-wet pop. Hazy eye contact is being held between the two and in a large puff, smoke billows out around them, almost obscuring their vision of each other. Jeremy almost wants to cough, but using a large amount of strength, resists the urge. Instead he plops back onto his ass with a _thunk_ and uncaps the water bottle near him. Gulping down the refreshment, he glances at his best friend (can he even still call him that? Would this change their dynamic?) and absorbs the stunned look on Michaels face.

Placing down the bottle with quaking hands, Jeremy blushes further and mutters, “Again?”

Jeremy and Michael both sit for a moment, regaining their bearings. Michael takes a trembling hand and presses his fingers to his lips. He can already feel where there’s going to be bruising, along his cupids bow, where Jeremy had tumbled into him in his haste to… _to what_? To kiss him? To smoke? Michaels hovering hand slaps against the floor a few times, fumbling for the lighter without losing his eye contact with Jeremy. The cool object is way too cold in his hand. _Dammit, why is it so fucking hot?_

Jeremy breaks their gaze first, looking to the ground. His hands have tangled themselves in the long since plush carpet. He remembers this stain, he thinks as he rubs a finger around the irregularly shaped splatter. When Jeremy was 6 and Michael had turned 5 a week prior. They were playing cops and robbers; the prized possession was grape juice. Jeremy rammed into Michael with such force that they both tumbled and squashed the juice box underneath their collective weight. Their parents had been so upset and the grape juice didn’t come out no matter what remedy their parents attempted.

Jeremy inhales shakily and repeats himself, “Again?” From his peripheral vision, he watches as Michaels hands lift up and out of sight. Hears the deafening _flick_ of flint against steel. Listens to the crackle of weed burning. Suddenly Michael is pressing a hand under his chin, lifting his face up towards him. He opens his eyes and ( _when had he closed his eyes?_ ) hopes that Michael can’t hear the sickening pounding of his heart, or the horrible stutter when he’s looking into, _oh fuck_ , those breath-taking brown eyes. And Michaels mouth is on his. Both of their lips part and, _shit_ , smoke is exchanged in a glorious way. Jeremy feels the rush of air as he accidentally lets the smoke exit through his nose. He can feel Michael smirk into the kiss, wait… why are they still…? Lips caress his and he feels the sharp tug of teeth drawing on his bottom lip, _fuck_ , and the harsh click as their lips separate. Oh man, Michael wants to do that again.

So, he does.

Michael scoops up the pipe and lighter again and takes a hasty deep breath. He can see Jeremy waiting. His azure eyes are watching him in anticipation and, oh man, Michael both hopes he looks the same way and hopes that his excitement isn’t obvious. And before he can lose his nerve he descends on Jeremy and his stupid, stupid barely-there freckles. Presses his mouth against Jeremy and his goddamned chapped, plump lips. Feels his tongue slide against Jeremys fuckin- _oh_. Oh, wow that’s nice. It’s also nice for Michael to lean back and witness Jeremy looking helpless and scared and slightly guilty. That’s okay, Michael feels guilty too. He’s taking advantage of Jeremy.

He’s using the fact that Jeremy is nervous and kissing him. Using weed as a stupid excuse to kiss his best friend. Michael is already addicted to the hazy, slightly lustful and stoned look that Jeremy is giving him. Needs more of the beautiful way that the smoke envelopes him. Fucking hell, necks were made to be kissed, right? Because that’s what Michael wants to do. Michael wants to mark Jeremys neck, cover it in love bites. He wants to lay Jeremy down, wants to feel the skin of their chests rub against each other. Wants to know what Jeremy will feel like- no. Stop that _right the fuck there_.

“Again.” Jeremy growls and _holyshit_ Michael is more than happy to comply.

Michael barely has enough time to place the pipe down safely on the floor before Jeremy is on him. Literally.

Jeremy presses against him so roughly that Michael reels back, resting on the heels of his hands and Jeremy, _oh dear Christ_ , Jeremy, is clambering into his lap. Pressing his legs to either side of his best friend and clutching his hips with his thighs. Lips are slammed against his so desperately that they’re definitely going to bruised, but hell if Michael cares about that at this moment. Heavy smoke is leaving his mouth in a rush and Jeremy pulls away, hands pressed into Michaels shoulders, to lean his head back and absorb the hit. In a steady stream of exhalation, the smoke is released into the air and, _fuck, Michael is so turned on_ , that he clasps a hand on the back of Jeremys head and tugs him back to Michaels waiting lips. Their lips slide against each other in heated breaths that make them both feel warmer inside. Michael props himself up and greedily grasps Jeremys hip with one hand and his thigh with the other.

Michael tastes of the marijuana they were smoking and of sweet soda, Crystal Pepsi, if Jeremy had to take a guess. Jeremy tangles a hand into Michaels hair and another is hastily trying to unbutton that damn adorable button up. Michaels hands dig into Jeremys skin and a guttural moan escapes him when Jeremy unconsciously jerks his hips into Michaels. Oh, shit what Jeremy wouldn’t give to hear that noise again, so with another lurch of his hips, he does. Michael nips at Jeremys bottom lip one more time, a bit more roughly and trails his way down to Jeremys jaw. He nips again at the skin joining his jaw and neck and pulls Jeremy against him roughly when he hears the sudden gasp that Jeremy makes.

It just feels so right, it just feels so good. Jeremy splays his hands out over his friend’s chest and Michael sucks harshly against the sensitive skin of his childhood best friends neck.

“M-Michael,” and he loses it.

Slamming them over, Michael presses Jeremy into the carpet and situates himself on top of him. Rocking himself on top of Jeremy, Michael reaches down to relieve himself. Jeremy is pressing a thumb into the juncture between Michaels hips and thighs, pushing his _fucking_ jeans just a tad lower, and grasping a handful of his best friend’s ass and he wonder why they hadn’t done this sooner. Why Michael hadn’t situated himself on top of his friend before and just _ridden him_ until he couldn’t think straight anymore. Jeremy groans at the thought, sliding his hand down Michaels waist to help his friend- _Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!_

Michael stills on top of Jeremy, hand half shoved down his pants, hips sputtering to a halt and lips halt on their quest to add another hickey to Jeremys neck. Jeremy is panting, head tilted up and to the side to grant Michael better access, fingertips barely grazing what he had been moments away from wrapping his hand around, and second hand instantly releasing the grip he had on Michaels ass.

Jeremy sits up quickly, bumping heads with Michael and eliciting a much different grunt than the one he had been previously craving. Michael slides off of his friend, hand frantically trying to rebutton his pants, scowling at his shit luck. They both work to avoid eye contact and pause all over again when Michaels mother shouts through the door, “Michael, Jeremy? Is Jeremy staying for dinner?”

A tense second passes.

“Y-yes,” Michael croaks. He clears his throat and tries again, “Yes!” He shouts a bit more steadily.

“Ok,” she replies.

The two friends sit on the floor for a few more moments. Fixing their rumpled clothing and fixing their hair. Its only when Jeremy hears a strangled choke that he finally looks over at Michael again.

“What?”

“Oh, my God, dude, I’m so fucking sorry.” Michael whispers from behind his hand.

“What are you talking about? It was… it was me. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that-“

“No,” Michael interrupts. “I…” he trails off.

“Dude, seriously, spit it out.” Jeremy demands, feeling ashamed. Was Michael really that upset about it? Was their friendship completely ruined because Jeremy made some stupid moves on his fucking best friend?

He almost missed Michael muttering completely.

“Huh?”

“I…” he gulps, “I gave you hickeys…”

Jeremys hand flies up to his neck, covering the saliva his friend had left behind and, apparently, according to the pulsing on two very specific spots on his neck, his newest hickeys.

“ _Fuck_.” Jeremy sighs.

“We almost did, but not quite.” Stifled laughter.

“Shut the fuck _up_!” Jeremy grins, shoving his friend and noting that they had identical red faces and bruised lips. “How are we gonna explain this to your parents?”

“ _Fuck_.” And Jeremy can’t help but grin at that.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated but if not please at least leave a kudos so I know someone enjoyed it. If you have any ideas for any future stories please let me hear them! Currently thinking of starting a ML/BMC story but I would love to write more oneshots.
> 
> If this needs to be labelled Explicit just let me know. I'm trying to get more comfortable writing in 3rd person so here's an experiment.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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